An Anchor to Reality
by a-word-nerd
Summary: Finnick is having a miserable time in the Capitol taking appointments for President Snow. But a conversation with Annie, in his opinion, can make any burden easier to bear.


It had almost been a decent day. It had really come extraordinarily close to being a bearable day. Finnick had managed to escape at a reasonable hour back to the huge, luxurious apartment that Snow had him staying in, and he almost thought he had been let off the hook for the night. That was until he noticed the note on his bed—the rose that accompanied it meant that it could have come from only one person.

_Finnick-_

_I've arranged another appointment for you tonight. Be at the address provided on the back of this note at midnight. Do make sure you are prompt—we don't want any accidents, do we?_

_Cordially,_

_President Coriolanus Snow_

Finnick crumpled the note in a shaking fist and sat down on the bed, dejectedly running his hands through his hair. This was hell. This was absolute hell. Very few people realized what kind of fate awaited a young, attractive victor after they came out of the arena. It made him feel physically ill each and every time he had to feign affection for a filthy rich, grotesquely decorated Capitol citizen. People in the districts had to scrimp and save for every penny they got, while people in the Capitol would line up around the block with a wad of cash just to spend a night with the famous Finnick Odair.

It was truly disgusting.

He missed home. He missed the ocean and the boats and the fishing nets. He missed lying awake at night and listening to the waves collide with the rocks. He missed Mags with her vast collection of beautifully crafted fishhooks. But most of all, more than any of the rest of these things combined, he missed Annie.

He tried not to spend too much time thinking about Annie while he was in the Capitol. This was an extremely difficult thing to do, seeing as thinking about Annie was all he ever wanted to do no matter where he was. But he tried not to think about her too much while he was taking appointments for Snow. It only served to make an already difficult situation worse. He knew that if he thought about her too much, he would cease to be able to hold himself together. And Snow would not appreciate that.

But right now, tonight, for some reason, he couldn't get her out of his head. All he wanted was to hear her voice, even if it was only for a few minutes. Before he could change his mind, he picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

It rang once, twice, three times. He wondered if she would pick up. Maybe she was at Mags' place. Maybe she was on the beach. Maybe she had gone for a walk. Maybe—

"Hello?"

"Annie?"

"Finnick!" Annie sounded surprised, but happy to hear from him. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I—everything's fine. I just…" He stopped, suddenly overcome by a tidal wave of homesickness. His voice seemed to be stuck in his throat.

"Finn, what is it?" Annie's voice was soft.

"I just wanted to hear your voice." Finnick's own voice was barely more than a whisper. "I miss you."

"Oh, Finnick…I miss you too, love." Annie replied. "It's only for another week, though, right?"

Finnick groaned at the reminder that he still had another week to spend in this awful place before he was allowed to go home until the start of the next Hunger Games.

"It's only for another week," Annie reminded him gently. "And then you'll come home and Mags and I will be waiting for you with an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet."

Finnick managed to crack a watery grin. "That sounds wonderful…how is Mags? How are you? Has it rained at all? How are the fishermen doing? What—"

"Hey, slow down!" Annie laughed. "One question at a time."

"Please, just…talk. Just talk. It doesn't matter what you talk about. Talk about why the sky is blue, for all I care. I just need you to help me keep my head on straight for a little while."

"Okay," Annie replied, knowing all too well what it was like to need to hear the sound of someone else's voice in order to stay in touch with reality. "Mags is doing well. You wouldn't believe the fishhooks she's been working on lately; they're absolutely beautiful. She's started doing this thing with bird feathers that looks impossibly hard, but of course she can do it because she's Mags. Let's see…I've been keeping myself busy by taking walks along the beach and collecting seashells. I used to do it all the time when I was a little kid; I don't remember exactly when I stopped. I'm thinking of making something out of them, but I'm just not sure what yet. It rained for a few hours about three days ago…"

Annie continued to talk about nothing and everything, and Finnick didn't say a word. He was more than content to lie still with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of her voice and the rhythm of her words. If he had to stay in the Capitol for the rest of his life, this would be the only way to do it.

Annie had transitioned into a one-sided discussion about different ways to cook salmon by the time he finally had to interrupt her. "Annie…I'm so sorry, love, but…I have to go."

Annie was quiet for just a fleeting moment. She knew where it was he had to go.

"Alright," she said, her voice betraying just a tiny amount of sadness. "Keep your head up, Finn. You'll be home soon. Just one more week. I love you."

"I love you too, more than you can imagine," Finnick replied. "Never, ever forget that."

"I never have and never will." Annie told him truthfully.

Those were the words that Finnick had needed to hear. Those words were going to be what got him through tonight and the next week. "Good night, Annie."

"Good night, Finnick."


End file.
